


Loki

by crabapple



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 08:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crabapple/pseuds/crabapple
Summary: Staring into the face of your own madness is not recommended. Especially if said madness has a loaded gun pointed at your head.





	Loki

**Author's Note:**

> Some Akechi time travel that I wrote to help me cope after beating Persona 5.
> 
> In honor of my last semester of college, I’m cleaning out my hard drive. Expect plenty more fic to appear in the next few weeks. I’m even going update my posted WIP.
> 
> (Quick edit to multi-chapter because of a surprisingly large interest in more)

Staring into the face of your own madness is not recommended. Especially if said madness has a loaded gun pointed at your head. Goro Akechi had the misfortune of finding out this fact in the worst possible way.

He had just handed off _his_ revenge to his worst enemy (closest friend), like the pathetic fool he was, and was staring into the wide, deranged eyes of his insane double: the warped cognition of his own father. His double was mocking him, a disturbing reflection of the crazed insults he’d only just rained down on the Phantom Thieves. Akechi started laughing at the irony, interrupting his double’s mad tirade.

 _In the end_ , he thought as he pulled the trigger of his gun nearly in sync with his double, _I was truly the biggest fool of them all._

…

**_Fool or no, do you truly wish to die here? Have you lost your desire to prove to the world how wrong they were to reject you? Can you stand to leave your revenge in the hands of another? Will you forsake the path of rebellion?_ **

_Loki._ Akechi’s consciousness teetered on the edge of fading, but his desperation rose up in a tidal wave, _No, I-I can’t die here! I won’t allow it!_

…

Akechi’s lungs were burning. He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t see, he was dead—

He sat up with a start, breathing in great gasps of air; sweat trailing down his forehead, matted hair sticking into his eyes. The room around him was a smattering of grey and black and blue, and he blinked in panic to try and get his vision to focus. He lunged to his feet and unsteadily toppled off the side of whatever he’d been lying on. He caught himself on the soft ground and rose with a snarl, attempting to draw his gun from a holster that should have been there but wasn’t.

The room finally shifted into focus. The plain grey carpet and unassuming blue walls of his bedroom surrounded him. The window above his desk showed a dark and gloomy haze hanging over the city. His black furniture appeared brand new, and not a single item was out of place. No, the only thing out of place was himself, panting and sweating in the middle of his bedroom, his trembling arms posed as if he was about to shoot someone with an invisible gun.

Akechi slowly lowered his arms, and tried in vain to cease shaking. This was not his father’s repugnant palace, his madness wasn’t trying to kill him, and he wasn’t covered in lacerations from his ill-fated fight with the Phantom Thieves. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and there was nothing but old scars visible on his exposed skin.

The room spun and he sank to his knees. He started laughing at first, as crazed as it had been before he’d shot his double a second time.

 _I’m supposed to be dead._ _I_ deserve _to be dead, but—_

He could feel the slow crawl of tears rolling down his cheeks, and his laughter broke off into a choked sob.

“Loki,” he whispered, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to summon a persona in the real world.

He could remember feeling the same all-encompassing desperation that had driven him to first manifest Loki as he’d stared into the face of his own madness. His persona had saved him yet again.

Time passed slowly as he sobbed on the floor of his room. He didn’t bother trying to hold it back; there was no one to witness his shame, after all. He only stopped when his tears were exhausted, his eyes burning and throat hoarse. He blindly climbed back into his disheveled bed and closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to sleep.

…

  
After what felt like only a few minutes, a cheery ringtone that he’d come to despise over the years broke into his mental haze. His phone was charging benignly on his bed stand, and he turned toward it to blearily glare at the offending caller ID. His heart lurched and he felt a mix of fear and rage when he saw the word ODIN glaring back at him. He did not reach for the phone and watched the call go to voicemail. He was only granted a momentary respite before the ringtone began again. Akechi scowled at it, but still only watched; paralyzed by something he could not place. On the fifth call, he finally reached a trembling hand for his phone and held down the power button. It shut down in the middle of the call and his room was plunged into silence yet again. The black screen of his phone stared back at him with frightening sense of finality.

Loki didn’t grant him this chance so he could sit back and let someone else take his revenge for him.

Akechi pulled himself from his bed and staggered into his small bathroom. He relieved himself, showered, and dressed, his mind resting on the events that had only just taken place within that mockery of Japan that resided in his father’s heart. The Phantom Thieves had nothing standing in their way, nothing from stopping them from sending a calling card.

He approached his bedside table and stared down at the bright green image of a full battery displayed on his phone’s screen. He knew that Shido must have been calling him because of the Thieves’ announcement. He briefly wondered how long it would be before Shido sent men to come and search for him at this apartment.

 _Not long, now._ The thought impelled him to reach for the phone and turn it on. He picked up his case, where his gun, some money, and other important possessions rested. He always kept them ready to go at a moment’s notice, always carried them with him. He stepped from the apartment, locking it up in vain, knowing that the door would be knocked down soon enough. As he pressed the button on the elevator, he looked at his phone. The five missed calls from ODIN were as expected, and there was one voicemail from him as well. Akechi had no desire to hear his father’s snarling voice, so he deleted it without listening to it. The elevator dinged just as he set his eyes on the date and time on his lock screen, and his breath caught in his throat.

It had been November 29th when he’d stepped into the Metaverse with the goal of murdering the Phantom Thieves. Yet the date displayed was April 3rd.  How could so many months have passed?

The doors to the elevator closed, Akechi still standing in front of them, dazedly staring at his phone. He unlocked it again and opened the calendar app, heart beginning to race as he saw April 3rd 2016 presented as the current date. He almost dropped the phone as his hand slackened, before his grip tightened into a stranglehold. If he had lost time because of avoiding death within the Metaverse, it would be April 3rd 2017, _not 2016_.  He opened his browser’s search engine and typed in ‘current date,’ only to find the same information helpfully presented. He went into his voicemail’s trash folder, his hands beginning to shake again. He restored the voice message and pressed play, holding the phone to his ear.

“ _How dare you ignore me, you insolent brat! Do you know what happens to those who cross me?”_ Shido’s tirade broke off with a frustrated sigh, making it clear he was just barely reining in his fury. “ _You have work to do. If an accident does not occur within the next week there will be_ dire _consequences.”_ The message ended.

That…was not what he had been expecting. In fact, he could vaguely recall a similar snarled warning right before he’d enacted the psychotic breakdown of a train conductor. School and previous cases had consumed his time, and he’d neglected Shido’s demands until the last possible moment. It had been in April 2016, right before the Phantom Thieves stole the heart of their first target.

This was completely impossible. He glanced up at the metal door of the elevator, and had to hold back laughter. He must have finally let go of what little sanity he had left. It was only explanation to why he appeared to be in the past.

The harsh click and bang of a door opening and closing knocked him from his dark amusement. Akechi schooled his expression into a pleasant mask and pressed the elevator’s down button again. A young woman who he’d seen around the complex before came to stand next to him. She was speaking rapidly on the phone, trying to appease the person on the other end with quick apologies and reassurances that she would arrive soon. She paid Akechi no mind.

They rode the elevator down to the sound of her rapid conversation, and Akechi typed in the name Yahiko Nawagami into his phone’s search engine. The results did not yield photos of a defeated, middle-aged train conductor, nor articles about the devastating subway accident. As he stepped out into the busy sidewalk in front of his apartment building, Akechi typed in the names of every other person he’d _influenced_ in the last few months, ending with Kunikazu Okumura. The man was still the CEO of Okumura Foods, and still very much alive.

He meandered into a café he often frequented, a weird lurch in his gut when he recalled that he had stopped coming here in favor of Leblanc, with its irresistible chance to keep an eye on (spend time with) Akira. He sat down and ordered when the waitress approached him. The surrounding conversation and the sound of coffee beans being grinded accosted him as he typed the phrase “the Phantom Thieves” into the search bar. There were no results with regards to the sensation that had consumed Japan in the last few months.

Akechi set his phone down onto the table, looking up to realize his coffee had been set down in front of him. He took a sip, but tasted nothing.

He was in the past.

The Phantom Thieves did not even exist in the public eye yet, and there was a very good chance they did not even exist _at all._ Akira Kuruzu had come to Tokyo in early April to begin his probation, if Akechi remembered his research correctly (of course he did).

It would be so easy to change _everything_.

…

Akechi had been observing the city around him, glancing at announcements and time tables, constantly checking to see if they would all yield the same answer that _yes, he was_ _seven months in the past._   During this scrambled realization, Akechi hadn’t noticed that it was a school day. He had to call and quietly apologize for the lack of notification of his absence, calmly explaining that some detective work had suddenly come up. He sat now in his afternoon classes, staring out the window and beginning to plan.

He knew that he should call Shido, but the thought of apologizing to him made Akechi feel utterly sick. He also acknowledged that he could easily stop the Phantom Thieves from ever existing. Staking out Leblanc, finding the exact moment Akira first entered the Metaverse, and disposing of him there would solve everything. He could plan around Shido with his foresight, and depose of his father at his peak of power, as he had originally planned.

Yet, Akechi couldn’t push what had happened in his father’s palace from his mind. Even after repeatedly trying to kill the Thieves, they had still offered him an alliance. Akira had looked at him with nothing but pity the entire confrontation, and he’d been offering Akechi the hand of friendship (both literally and figuratively) the entire damn time. He still couldn’t understand it, but it made him wonder. He knew that if his madness hadn’t chosen that moment to intervene, he would have accepted their offer. He would have gone with them and helped them change his disgusting father’s heart.

_Have you lost your desire to prove to the world how wrong they were to reject you? Can you stand to leave your revenge in the hands of another? Will you forsake the path of rebellion?_

Loki’s words had mercilessly cut past any of his delusions, as they always did. He supposed that was the purpose of a persona: to make you understand even your most repressed thoughts and emotions.

“Goro,” the voice of his economics teacher cut into his thoughts, “Explain the intricacies of inflation on a global scale.”

Akechi pulled his mind from plotting and back to the mundanity of the classroom. He would move forward after school.

…

Instead of heading home, Akechi stayed in the underground walkway at Shibuya, watching people pass by. He was stuck at an impasse. He couldn’t go after his father’s palace alone. He hated to admit it, but even his strength wouldn’t be enough to bring down his father’s shadow, not if he could be defeated by the Thieves.

He could find a way to involve himself in the group much earlier, perhaps even from the beginning in order to avoid suspicion. It would be simple to manipulate them towards discovering Shido’s foul activities and drive them to want to change his heart.

The greatest issue was that Akechi knew that they could not immediately go after his father. Akira, and those other two Thieves, Ann Takamaki and Ryuji Sakamoto, had desperate, personal reasons for targeting their teacher. Kamoshida’s heart would have to be changed before anything else.  That would take _time._

Akechi did not have time. His father was demanding results, evident from the multiple calls and voicemails he’d received after school was released for the day. He hadn’t picked up a single call, as he knew that if he spoke to Shido live, he would not be able to hold back his deep hatred. The horror of being shot by his father’s cognition of him was still far too fresh for the typical demure and apologetic tone he took on with Shido when the man became impatient. He knew what he had to do, but he had little interest in causing one more psychotic breakdown or mental shutdown. He would not be a _puppet_ any longer.

The cold, pragmatic part of him argued that he would have to play the role of a puppet a bit longer to give himself and the Thieves time to make Shido tell Japan what scum he was. The thought made Akechi sick.

The blank stare he’d set on the crowd shifted into sharp awareness when he caught sight of a familiar face. Walking slowly through the masses was the thin form of Yusuke Kitagawa, another member of the Thieves. He was Madarame’s pupil and ward. Akechi began to move, following him even though he knew that Yusuke was not a Thief yet, nor would he have a Persona.

He followed the oblivious artist all the way to the dilapidated house that Madarame used as a false front for his humble demeanor. Akechi already knew that this was the location of the old man’s Palace, and he knew how to access it. As he watched Kitagawa walk to the door, he contemplated how easy it would be to take Madarame out. The fool was far weaker than Shido, after all; his Shadow would always cower before Akechi and Loki whenever he went to check up on it.

“Pardon me,” the polite voice of Kitagawa interrupted Akechi’s musings. “But I have noticed you following me for some time now. As you can see,” Kitagawa motioned to the two story shack in front of him, “I have nothing worth stealing.”

Akechi smiled, but it wasn’t his usual fake façade. “I apologize; I’m actually a fan of your work.”

Kitagawa blinked, clearly taken aback, before he stepped away from the door and closer to where Akechi stood on the street. “A fan, you say?” he shook his head. “My humble work is nothing compared to Sensei’s.”

Akechi titled his head to the side. “ _Waterfalls of Sin_ spoke to me more than any other work I’ve seen. The rage and hopelessness I sensed from it resonated with me.”

Eyebrows scrunching together, Kitagawa dropped his gaze to the ground. “I believe you’re mistaken, that is one of the works of my Sensei, Ichiryusai Madarame.”

Immediately, Akechi realized his error. When he had researched the Thieves, it had been after Madarame’s downfall. Clearly, that painting was one that Madarame had originally plagiarized from his ward before the truth had been brought to light.

Kitagawa still wouldn’t look at Akechi. His discomfort was so palpable, it was clear that he was a terrible liar. It would be easy for Akechi to go along with it, turn around and remove himself from this useless conversation, yet he found that he couldn’t let this go.

“Are you certain? The moment I laid eyes on it, I recognized it as your work.”

Kitagawa came to life at that. “Just-just what are you implying?” He aggressively stepped closer to Akechi, light pink painting his cheekbones. “I will not stand to hear such slander against my Sensei!”

“I apologize,” Akechi replied smoothly. “I was simply pointing out what I had deduced. If I am mistaken, then I will say nothing more.” He gave a polite little bow and was about to turn away when—

“Deduced?”

“Yes, I am not only a fan of your works, but a budding detective. I was rather surprised when that painting appeared under Madarame’s name when it so closely matched your personal style.”

Kitagawa’s cheeks paled, and his gaze dropped back onto the ground. “If you try to bring this to the police, I will stand firm with my Sensei. There is only a resemblance in style because I have been learning from Madarame my entire life.”

Akechi nodded gracefully. “Of course. I apologize for taking up your time, Kitagawa-san.” He turned away, but said over his shoulder, “I look forward to your next painting.”

He could feel Kitagawa’s gaze boring into the back of his head, but Akechi continued on. That had been an entertaining diversion, but he didn’t have time to try and convince a fool to stop letting himself be taken advantage of (Akira had taken care of it eventually). He certainly didn’t care about the similarities he saw in a desperate child willing to do anything to win the approval of his father, and his own pitiful life.

…

“ _A subway accident occurred at_ _seven this morning, killing eight and injuring dozens of others. Police are investigating the situation, and we will report on-going developments. Expect extreme delays in—“_

Akechi closed the news report on his phone, his eyes set on the slowly receding form of a bright yellow car that held Akira Kuruzu. He had received calls from the police department, asking him to come and investigate. He was practically the leading detective in the psychotic breakdown incidents, after all. He hadn’t bothered answering. He didn’t have _time_ to be some fake star detective. It wasn’t like he deserved to be showered with praise and fame after he had allowed himself to be a useless puppet, _yet again._

After his brief conversation with Kitagawa he had—

_The deformed, curling bones that made up the tracks in Mementos. A swirling red vortex that lead into an isolated pocket where Yahiko’s shadow dwelled. Cold laughter and a mocking tone that turned into panic when Akechi grabbed its head and spread his own madness into it, like some infectious disease._

\--realized that in order to move forward without facing an early death, he needed to conform to Shido’s demands. He was truly as delusional and as foolish as Kitagawa.

Akira had only just arrived in Tokyo, and from the bits of conversation Akechi had overheard, it appeared that Sakura was taking him to be introduced to Shujin Academy. Akechi wasn’t certain of the exact day that Akira would discover the Metaverse, but it would undoubtedly be soon. He had noticed that Akira hadn’t had that strange cat with him. Since it was some creature from the Metaverse, it meant that when Akira took in the cat would mark the beginning of the Phantom Thieves’ escapades. He would just have to make Leblanc a regular after school hangout until he caught sight of that creature.

He could involve himself in Kamoshida’s Palace not long after Akira and the others began to investigate it. He could simply tell them the truth to explain his powers: he’d summoned his Persona some years ago when the MetaNav first appeared on his phone. He could even explain how he’d explored the Metaverse to some extent, moving around Mementos and discovering the horror of his father’s own Palace. How he desperately wanted to stop his father, but didn’t have the strength to do it alone. They wouldn’t suspect him in the least.

It was Sunday, and Akechi wanted to avoid dealing with people. Putting on that cheerful, good natured mask was far more exhausting than it had been before. He still hadn’t answered Shido’s calls over the last few days, though thankfully they had stopped altogether when the news of the accident hit. As long as he obeyed orders, his father paid him no mind.

Akechi moved through the throngs of people in Shibuya, wearing an old hoodie and worn jeans. With the hood pulled up over his head, even his diehard _fans_ would have trouble recognizing him. He wandered through the streets, flinching every time the sound of a news report or gossip with regards to the accident wafted by. He pondered returning to his apartment and just climbing into the bed, but tossed the idea aside. He didn’t feel secure in his apartment. Shido knew where it was, after all. He began to plan on what exactly he’d say, and how he could manipulate Akira and the others into pursuing Shido. Devising the perfect moment to interject it into a conversation.

Stopping to lean against a street pole, Akechi finally bothered to take stock of his surroundings. He resisted the urge to start laughing when he found Madarame’s shack sitting in front of him. The street was empty, Akechi was bored, and the pained look on Kitagawa’s face was still fresh in his mind. He pulled his phone from his pocket and said, “Ichiryusai Madarame, plagiarism, shack, museum.”

…

The golden hued museum was gaudy, yet Akechi found it less disgraceful than his father’s cruise ship. It was smaller in scale and held weak Shadows and a weak Ruler. He could still hear Yahiko’s screams from yesterday ringing in his ears, and found the idea of doing something as benign as stealing a Treasure appealing. He could find its location and then threaten Madarame to cause the Treasure to manifest. Sending a calling card was what Phantom Thieves did, and Akechi knew that he could never truly be one.

“What, what is this?!” A panicked voice demanded from behind Akechi.

He stiffened and glanced over his shoulder. Trembling behind Akechi, with wide eyes trained on the golden museum, stood Kitagawa. Akechi felt a laugh burst from his lips at the ridiculousness of the situation. He hadn’t event noticed the artist’s approach before activating the NavApp.

“Your Sensei’s _museum_ ,” he murmured, already planning on how he could use this situation to his advantage.

Kitagawa tore his eyes from the monstrosity before him and gaped at Akechi. “It’s you! The detective from yesterday.” He walked over to Akechi, that angry flush rising to his cheeks again. “What is meaning of this?”

“I decided to change Madarame, since you refused to admit the truth.”

“Change Sensei? What are you going on about?” Kitagawa looked at the Palace looming behind Akechi, at the shadows milling about its entrance, and shook his head. “What is this place?”

Akechi saw an opportunity. “Let me show you. I suspected foul play, but it was confirmed once I perused this museum.” It would be easier to integrate with the Thieves if he had already ‘stolen’ a Treasure, and with another Persona user to vouch for him, well, there wouldn’t be an ounce of suspicion cast upon him.

“Foul play?” Kitagawa looked Akechi in the eyes. A defeated expression crossed over his face momentarily before he put on that indignant façade again. “You mean those preposterous accusations of plagiarism!”

“Not so preposterous,” Akechi replied smoothly. “Come with me, and I’ll show you my proof.”

Kitagawa was clearly torn, but Akechi didn’t have time to wait for him. He turned and strolled confidently towards door, pulling his hood down. He smirked when he heard Kitagawa following him. They pushed through the crowd of shadows, voices murmuring about their excitement at seeing the Great Madarame’s works.

Kitagawa stopped and tried to speak to one of them, but the shadow acted as if he wasn’t even there. Kitagawa rushed forward and grabbed Akechi’s shoulder right before they broke free of the crowd.

“Who are these people? What is wrong with them?” he hissed into Akechi’s ear.

“They’re not people. This place isn’t in the real world.” Akechi motioned to the gaudy Palace. “We are inside of your Sensei’s heart, staring at the manifestation of his distorted desires.”

“Sensei’s heart,” Kitagawa muttered to himself.

“There is nothing but the truth here,” Akechi said cheerfully. He found that he was genuinely enjoying himself. He had never shown another person the Metaverse, always kept it a secret as if it was his own little world.

He stepped from the crowd, pushing a few shadows aside. The guards at the front of the museum turned towards him. “The museum is closed!”

“Tell Madarame that Akechi-kun is here to see him,” Akechi replied boldly.

The guards looked at one another, or at least appeared to, as their faces were formless.

“Well?” Akechi asked with clear irritation.

One guard scurried inside, while the other turned back to Akechi. “Wait here until the curator gives his approval.”

“Sensei knows you?” Kitagawa asked quietly from where he stood next to Akechi. The guards had hardly paid him any mind, treating him as if he was just another milling shadow.

“I caught wind of his activities through my father,” Akechi quietly spoke the truth, or at least part of it, “I checked for the existence of his Palace and introduced myself. I decided recently that I could not allow his crimes to go unpunished.”

“Palace?” Kitagawa glanced up at the museum. “This is Sensei’s _Palace_.” He spoke slowly, appearing to come to some sort of understanding. “And what was that about your father? Is he involved in the art world?”

Akechi gave Kitagawa a small smile. “You could say that.”

The guard strode back through the museum doors. “The Great Madarame has agreed to see you, Akechi-kun.”

There was a subtle shift in the air and Kitagawa gasped. “Your clothes!”

Akechi glanced down at himself and saw the purple and black striped outfit that had become a second skin to him. Of course, he wasn’t wearing that ridiculous prince get up, as that had been nothing more than the Phantom Thieves cognition of his appearance.

“An unfortunate side effect.” Akechi looked directly at where the guard’s eyes would be, if he had them. “This is my companion. He is coming along, as well.”

The guard finally acknowledged Kitagawa, though it was clear that it was unsure of what to do.

“We shouldn’t keep the _Great Madarame_ waiting,”Akechi prompted.

That got the guards moving. They ushered Kitagawa and Akechi through the doors and guided them through the museum. Kitagawa gaped at the sight of halls and halls of paintings that contained nothing more than a vague outline of a person: all of Madarame’s unfortunate victims.  Kitagawa stopped suddenly, and Akechi saw that it was in front of a painting of himself.

“Sensei has never painted work like any of these.” Kitagawa reached a hand forward and rested it against the surface of his portrait.

“Touching the artwork is not allowed!” the guard barked. Kitagawa withdrew his hand as if he had been burned.

“This is how Madarame sees all of his pupils,” Akechi quietly informed Kitagawa.

“Then, this painting of myself…?”

Akechi nodded. The look of anguish on Kitagawa’s face was pitiful, and Akechi turned away from it. “This isn’t everything, come along if you’re not afraid to gaze upon the truth,” he said over his shoulder.

He turned the corner and was introduced to a new guard, Kitagawa lagging behind. They weaved through the museum, Kitagawa quietly taking in evidence of his Sensei’s despicable nature. He stopped in front of a painting of a woman in the traditional Japanese style, an undiscernible emotion on his face. It took Akechi lightly pulling on his arm to get Kitagawa moving again. Akechi wasn’t entirely sure why there were so many copies of it stacked up and around, but Kitagawa was clearly upset by it.

They finally entered into the inner chamber of the Palace, Madarame’s Shadow sitting and drinking sake as he had been every time Akechi visited him. There was a large glass window behind him, overlooking a display room where an amorphous shape twisted in midair above a pedestal. Akechi had never paid it any mind before, but now he recognized it as the undefined form of Madarame’s Treasure.

“Welcome, Akechi-kun. Please, sit, have a drink, and tell me how Shido-sama fares—“ the shadow cut off, eyes widening as it noticed Kitagawa standing beside him. “Yusuke?” he whispered with a momentary look of fear on his face before he set accusing eyes onto Akechi “Why have you brought my student here?”

“I thought it would be prudent to show him his Sensei’s true face.” Akechi smirked.

Madarame’s Shadow shook his head, regaining his composure. “No matter. Whether Yusuke knows the truth or not is irrelevant. He still belongs to me.” He motioned to the pillow across from him. “Please sit, Akechi-kun. Tell me what Shido-sama requires of me.”

Akechi was surprised by Madarame’s lack of concern, but in the end, he supposed that the man didn’t care about anyone but himself.

“ _Belongs to you_!?” Kitagawa’s voice cracked as he repeated his Sensei’s words.

Madarame sipped his sake before glancing at Kitagawa as if he was a particularly loud dog. “You are my student and my ward. It is your duty to provide me with as many paintings as you can produce before there’s nothing left of you. It’s simply what is fair.” He smiled a terrible, wide grin that reminded Akechi of a shark.

“Fair?” Kitagawa had turned deathly pale. “Sensei, you told me that you had artist’s block,” he whispered. “That’s why you needed to _borrow_ my paintings.” He shook his head. “You can’t have taken work from all of those people. The paintings downstairs were countless…”

Madarame laughed. “Why not? They were eager to please and ripe for the picking! Sacrificing your life for the elderly is the foundation of a filial society, you know!” He took another sip of sake before setting the empty glass on the table. “Now, enough of this boring talk. Leave us, Yusuke. Akechi-kun has come to discuss business.” He began to pour out two glasses of sake.

Kitagawa looked completely devastated. Akechi wondered if he had made a mistake in leading him here. He had thought the revelation would compel Kitagawa to rebellion, not this pitiful state.

_It’s because I’m not Akira. Why did I think, for even a second, that I could do what he did?_

“I’m not here on my father’s business today,” Akechi said, still not sitting down. “I’ve come to make you pay for your crimes, Madarame.”

Madarame jumped to his feet, his eyes wide with his mouth hanging open in terror. Akechi had threatened to kill the shadow the first time they had ever spoken, and Madarame clearly had never forgotten the feeling of a pistol pressed to his forehead.

“What? But I’ve been routing money to Shido-sama as requested!” He fell onto his knees, bowing with his forehead touching the ground. “Please, I’m certain if you bring this to my Other’s attention in the real world that he will do anything to accommodate you!”

“Routing money,” Kitagawa said softly. He stepped forward to where Madarame bowed. He kneeled down on one knee and raised his hand; it hovered above Madarame’s back before he withdrew it. He looked up at Akechi, his eyes calculating.  “Your father is the one Sensei is working for, correct? What do you intend to do here?”

Akechi was pleased to see that harsh look in Kitagawa’s eyes. It was an improvement. “I have grown tired of sitting back and mindlessly following my father’s orders. I believe that if we take the Treasure from this Palace, Madarame will admit everything he has done, while also cutting off my father from a valuable funding source.”

“Is your father yakuza?” Kitagawa quietly asked.

“He is a criminal. He has a Palace, as well, but it is a formidable place that I cannot enter alone,” Akechi lied.

Madarame sat up, he looked between Aekchi and Kitagawa before he grabbed onto Kitagawa’s hand. “Please, Yusuke, you must stop this boy! He is dangerous, and his father is even worse! He threatened my life! I only used my students’ paintings as a way to find the money to pay him! Yusuke, you must understand!”

Kitagawa looked down at Madarame, and in that moment Akechi wondered if he’d miscalculated, and that Kitagawa would turn against him. Not that it was a problem; Kitagawa didn’t even have a Persona. It would only be a _disappointing_ outcome.

Pushing Madarame’s hand away, Kitagawa stood. Madarame fell backward with a cry.

“You,” Kitagawa closed his eyes, his mouth drawn into a firm line. When he opened them again they burned with rage. “You have the _audacity_ to ask for my help after you’ve taken and taken and _taken_ from everyone in the house, until all that remained was _me_! I have endured the threats and gone along with the lies because I have _nowhere else to go_! You knew that and _took advantage of it_!”

Madarame was staring at Kitagawa as if he’d never seen him before.

“Even if you were threatened, that gives you no excuse to use and abuse _children_!” Kitagawa bellowed, the flush on his cheeks a bright red.

Akechi smirked. This is what he’d been hoping for.

Kitagawa took a breath, trying to regain some of his composure. “You said that if we acquired a… _Treasure_ , we could make Sens-- _Madarame_ admit the truth?” Kitagawa asked Akechi, his voice now soft as his eyes still rested on Madarame’s shadow.

“Yes, we only have to tell him so in the real world, and the Treasure will materialize.” Akechi walked over to the window and gestured at the amorphous blob floating in the center of the display room.

Kitagawa tore his eyes away from Madarame and went to stand next to Akechi. “I see.” He closed his eyes again. “I’m still not certain if this a dream or—“

Akechi caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and he pushed Kitagawa out of the way as an inhuman snarl filled his ears.  He was knocked over and fell with crash through the window, glass shattering around him as he caught himself on the marble floor.

“Do you brats think I’ll let you ruin everything?!” Madarame was snarling at Kitagawa in the observation room, his hands extended towards him like claws.

“Loki, come forth!” Akechi called, just as shadows poured into the display room from every entryway.

Akechi dodged a wind spell and found himself surrounded by a multitude of weak opponents. He cast megidolaon and took out a quarter of them. They were unperturbed, and Akechi danced around more attacks. He could hear yelling and saw a bright flash of blue fire in the observation room above. He found that he desperately hoped Kitagawa was alright, though he couldn’t place why he was so concerned.

Another attack knocked him from his reverie. He summoned Loki again, casting another megidolaon spell followed by makouga, leaving only a few stragglers. The screaming from the observation room had ceased, and Akechi glanced back at it to see the form of Fox standing in the broken window. He jumped down into the display room, clutching a katana in one hand.

“I will not allow you to harm him!” he bellowed at the remaining shadows. He tore the porcelain mask from his face and summoned his Persona, ice raining down on many of the shadows. Akechi laughed and began to shoot at the frozen shadows, watching them shatter into mist. Kitagawa cast another mabufula spell and drew his katana.

Akechi could hear a commotion from one of the entryways and saw more shadows approaching. There was nothing more they could do here today, not without the Treasure manifesting. Besides, Akechi didn’t want to risk getting Kitagawa killed so soon after his awakening.

“We need to leave!” he said as he grabbed onto Fox’s arm to keep him from attacking the frozen shadows. “Follow me!”

They sprinted through the halls, dodging enemies. Akechi blasted any would-be opponents away with spells, and Kitagawa sliced a few groups clean in half with his sword. They jumped from a window and landed in front of the museum, guards pouring out of the front doors. Akechi pulled his phone from his pocket and selected the NavApp.

“Return us to the real world!” he yelled, just as another spell came barreling towards them.

The wind spell hit and knocked them back. Akechi fought to regain his bearings, but blinked to see that the shack and overcast sky had reformed in front of him. They had made it back safely.

He started laughing. That had been the most fun he’d had in a long time. As he caught his breath, he realized Kitagawa had been laughing with him. The two of them were sitting on the sidewalk across from the shack, laughing like maniacs. They must have made quite the sight.

Kitagawa slowly stood up before swooning and catching himself on the telephone pole Akechi had been leaning against only an hour ago. He looked exhausted.

Akechi stood up. “You should get some rest. Awakening a Persona is always a trial.”

Kitagawa blinked at him and said, “You drag me into another world, show me the truth of the man I could call ‘father,’ and that is all you have to say?”

Akechi titled his head to the side and smiled: a genuine grin that he didn’t show often. “What else is there to say?”

Kitagawa huffed, “An introduction would be nice. Along with an explanation of what exactly happened.” He shook his head. “Sens— _Madarame_ , tried to _kill_ me,” he looked so mournful, Akechi took pity on him.

“Come with me, then. I’ll take you to dinner and you can ask me whatever you’d like.” Akechi smiled charmingly, a bit more fake then his previous grin, “My name is Goro Akechi, by the way.”


End file.
